Homeward Bound
by hearthandhomeauthor
Summary: One year has passed since Tony gave up searching for Ziva to give their daughter Tali the steady life she deserves. But things are changing. Old friends are moving on. New friends are distant. Should he move on too? Or should he fight until the end? Picks up right after Abby leaves NCIS in "Two Steps Back" per season 15
1. C'est le vie

**.**

 **HOMEWARD BOUND**

 **...**

The flight could have been much smoother in Ziva's humble opinion. But compared to the hell she had endured over the last few years of her tumultuous life, it was a cake walk. Finding small creature comforts in the fact that she had a seat by the window, Ziva raised a tired hand to scoot the shade up and get a glimpse of the puffy clouds that seem to clutch onto the airplane's wing.

A serene smile teased her face. But her smile faded as she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the window. Her hair was matted and dirty. She could feel her scalp itching from lack of care. And her face barely had any makeup on it. In fact, she could hardly remember what it was like to wear makeup. It had been so long since she had truly felt like a woman. Maybe it was the day she saw Tali for the first time. Maybe it was before that…when she had said goodbye to only man who had ever managed to make her ache for the love he gave.

Ziva suddenly slammed the shade shut. Too many vicious memories raged in her mind. She had to shut it out some way. Somehow. She turned over to her other side, clutching a blanket over her cold body in an attempt to relax. She had to sleep. She had to rid her mind of the junk. Most of all, she had to remember why she had even stepped foot on that plane in the first place.

* * *

 **Three days earlier…**

"Tali! Breakfast!"

A little girl in short curls and a brand new checkered jumpsuit bounded into the sunlit kitchen of their Parisian apartment and headed straight for the first bar stool. She grunted and struggled to climb the stool until she felt two strong hands hoist her into the air and set her gently in the tall seat. As she turned around, she saw the beaming smile on her father's face…the same one she had seen hundreds of times before that filled her with the perfect amount of courage no matter what.

"So," Tony struck up a conversation as he returned to the stove to flip his pancakes. "Are you ready for your first day of primary school?"

"Oui!" Tali beamed. "Je suis pret!"

Tony turned around and gave her a soft glare.

Tali frowned. "I'm sorry, papa."

"No." Tony set aside his work and found his way to the seat next to his daughter. He cradled her delicate hand in his and looked her deep in the eyes, the glint of the golden star around Tali's neck suddenly making him feel quite nostalgic. "Don't apologize. Your mama would have loved to hear you speak a bit of French. It's just that I want you to know your roots. Haven't you been enjoying your tutoring lessons?"

"I guess," Tali shrugged. "French is far more beautiful a language than Hebrew or English though."

Tony sighed. He was afraid this would happen sooner or later. As a toddler, Tali's Hebrew was excellent. He couldn't help but remember the moment she had pointed to a picture of himself and Ziva and proclaimed proudly in her native tongue who she saw in the photo. But since then, taking her away from her Israeli roots had only served to lessen her knowledge of her mother's home culture. Although Ziva had many things go wrong with her family, she still loved her heritage. And deep down Tony knew she would have wanted Tali to cherish it as she did.

"Tali, why don't you give it a chance. Hey, there's no harm in loving more than one language."

"Like mama?"

"Yes," Tony tried hiding the emotion he felt stagger in his throat. "Just like your mama." Tony leaned forward, bringing Tali's forehead to his lips for a gentle kiss. He then noticed the pancakes were burning and leapt up to save them.

Tali couldn't help but giggle out loud.

"Hey, watch it young lady!" Tony warned. "Now go get some cereal from the pantry before you're late for school."

* * *

The morning had left Tony in quite a reflective mood. He couldn't seem to get Ziva off his mind. He laughed gently, thinking he never really had forgotten about her. He never would in a million years. Still, after a few years of searching it was beginning to be clearer than ever to him that Ziva had to be dead. Since becoming a contract private investigator, Tony had turned over every rock in Europe and the Middle East it felt like sometimes in order to confirm or deny if she was truly dead. Every single piece of evidence seemed to point to her death being as real as she child that had come from their love. That said, today marked a year since he had chosen to end his search. In so doing, he and Tali lived in a cheap apartment in Paris, the city Ziva loved. Tali loved it too.

As he sipped his coffee at Ziva's favorite café, Tony's phone suddenly rang at his chest. He reached inside for the item and answered curtly. "Oh, hey, Tim." He suddenly felt bad about how harsh his greeting had been. "No, yeah, today's one year since I stopped searching. I've been a mess. How's things back home? Is Abby okay?"

"Oh, they're fine."

"Not by the sound of your voice, probie."

"Tony, I'm senior field agent now. The nickname is kind of old."

"Aw, I don't know about that. But I'm sorry if you don't like it anymore."

"No, I like it…actually. It reminds me of when you and Ziva were still here."

The line fell silent for a moment.

"So," Tony broke the silence. "Have they caught the guy?"

"What guy?"

"Ronald McDonald." Tony rolled his eyes.

"What?!"

"The guy that shot Abby!"

"Oh!" Tim stuttered, "Yeah. He, um, he's behind bars as we speak. But…"

"What is it, Tim?!"

"Abby…she's leaving NCIS."

"What?!" Tony almost laughed. "You can't be serious. She'd never leave. Something pretty bad had to have happened for her to quit."

"Yeah." Tim hesitated, thinking about how much he'd miss Abby. "She felt pretty bad about Reeves. She plans to escort his body back to England and then start the charity he never was able to."

"Wow," Tony's voice caught in his throat. He wasn't sure what to say. It was so sudden. First, Abby was shot and nearly died. Now she was leaving the only thing that in Tony's eyes made her who she was…who he remembered her as.

"Well, I'll leave you alone now. I was just about to go to bed and wanted to let you know."

"Yeah, thanks, Tim. I appreciate it. Very much."

As Tony hung up the phone, his heart seemed to sink even lower. First Kate, then Jenny, his Ziva, and now Abby. Thank God Abby had lived though. Little bits of regret lingered in his shaken thoughts that he had ended his search for Ziva. It seemed like yesterday really was gone now for good.

Tony opened the photos on his phone and scanned through the ones he always kept of Ziva. "Are you out there," he whispered. "This may seem silly, but from now on I will tell you I love you every day. Life's too short to do otherwise. Besides, somehow I think you can hear me…wherever you are. Speak to me."

But for now the only voice he heard was his own.

* * *

 **The next day…**

Brown curly locks framed the face of Mossad's latest technical engineer. For three years she had worked night and day to earn her stripes as one of the country's best forensic scientist. She'd never hold the title officially. But perhaps one of these days she'd find the answers to why it had happened. Dressed in fatigues and a thin-lipped stern frown, she pecked at the computer keys, conducting one last test for an IDF officer before she was done for the day.

"All done, Mary?" a voice from the corridor asked, tiptoeing in the room.

A beep from the computer was the answer as the brown-haired beauty smiled. "Yes, all done."

"Phew, I'm glad!" The second voice relaxed and sauntered into the room. "For a moment there I thought I'd have to have face Jacobs with another negative test."

"Well," the technician grimaced, handing the young man a sheet of paper. "It was negative again. I'm sorry."

"Oh, well it's not your fault." He ignored the piece of paper and rounded the table to view the test. "Yep. You're right."

"You'd think I'd lie?!"

"N—no. Of course not. I just don't want to face Jacobs again!" he whimpered and mumbled something off in his native Hebrew tongue.

No longer had Ziva flashed him a smile had the ground shook violently beneath them.

"They're here!" Ziva shouted, overtaking the young soldier to the ground just as the walls collapsed around them.

Debris of every kind crumbled as the explosion caused the building to cave in around them.

Barely aware of her surroundings, Ziva could only think of one day…the day she had died to the world. It couldn't happen again. Not today. In two days it would be the day. She had to live. She had to have a chance to make things right. But apparently it was not meant to be.

* * *

~ TO BE CONTINUED ~


	2. Soldier Down

**CHAPTER TWO**

Ziva's eyes fluttered open long enough to see that her soldier friend was gone. But empathy was buried deeply within her. She had no time to cry over death. She could hear the flickering of flames all around her. With all the equipment in the lab, a blast was eminent. She had to get out of there fast. She struggled to break free from the debris above her long enough to inch her way over to the dead body. After she confirmed her worst fears, Ziva found the soldier's dog tags and identification and quickly found a pocket to slip them into before she began to work her way out of the lab.

Finding freedom from the disaster was not easy. And Ziva could still hear voices in the distance. Not knowing whether they were friend or foe, she decided to play it safe and assume the worst.

Ziva crept over the piles of rubble, smut stains streaking her face as she wiped away some sweat from her brow. But it didn't do much good. All she could think about was home. Wherever that was now.

"Check in that room!" Ziva heard a voice speaking a foreign tongue but couldn't quite make it out.

Ziva ducked down behind a pile of rubble just before two armed soldiers forced their ways into the room. Each of them pointed their rifles and examined the space thoroughly.

"Just one dead body," the first man clearly uttered in Arabic. "Let's get out of here."

As soon as the soldiers had left, Ziva darted out of the door and down the hall the opposite way from where the soldiers had gone. Assuming the worst, she didn't stop to check for bodies. It seemed selfish. But she did what she thought best. The only image in her mind was Tali. She probably looked entirely different now. It had been several years. She was in school now most likely. The trick seemed to work. Ziva was outside the now dilapidated former base and headed for the nearest Jeep. She piled inside and prayed a quick prayer just as the engine fired and her foot reached the accelerator. Hopefully the hideout would be reachable.

Before Ziva had a chance to pass through the gate to safety, another Jeep screeched to a halt in front of her, the occupants aiming their guns and blinding her eyes with their flashlights.

"Stop! United States Marines! Hands in the air!"

Ziva stopped the vehicle and hesitated, her eyes darting from one soldier to another in hopes of one them being a familiar face.

"Now! Hands in the air!"

Ziva lifted her hands up slowly and in unison as two Marines surrounded her vehicle on either side. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Do you make a habit of attacking an ally's base without warning?"

"Quiet!" the nearest soldier reprimanded her and pointed his weapon between her eyes at a comfortable distance. "Please step out of the vehicle, miss. I don't want to use force, but I will."

Ziva looked the man in the eyes. They told her that he truly didn't intend her any harm. But the carnage around her told her otherwise. She was trained to trust her instincts. Right now her instincts were all over the place. She didn't know who to trust. With one slow, distinct movement, Ziva stepped down out of the Jeep and extended her hands as if to give permission for them to restrain her. But the soldier ignored her, stepping aside to let her walk ahead of him.

Although confused, Ziva followed her unuttered instructions and began walking ahead. As they walked at a steady pace across the dirt road to the Humvee nearby, a flash in the sky caused them all to turn to look in its direction. But they had no time to figure out what the flicker had been before the explosion rocked them all to their knees and almost all of them to their untimely deaths.

* * *

"At lo levad."

Tony had a glow in his eyes, his subtle smile growing as he tucked his little girl in for bed. It was their code phrase every night. It was their "I love you" and their "I miss you" and their "Sweet dreams" all wrapped up into one neat package. He had yet to tell Tali the entire story surrounding why that phrase meant so much to him. But he promised himself that he would tell her everything someday soon. Tali definitely knew it had something to do with her mama. Tony made sure of that.

As he lingered by Tali's bedroom door on his way out, he watched Tali snuggle into her covers and close her eyes, his hand hovering over the light switch and his gaze wandering as she did so. Every night he went through the same ritual. He would act as if he were waiting for Tali to tell him goodnight when in reality he wanted to stay and stare at the photo on Tali nightstand of her parents. It was the same photo Tali had arrived to him with. Ziva and Tony were propped up on their Vespa with the Eiffel Tower gleaming in the background. It was the same picturesque, cliché Paris tourist photo to some. But to Tony, it was his world. It seemed like the one thing that connected their three worlds…as a family.

"Goodnight, aba," Tali whispered, stealing Tony from his reverie.

He shook it off and gave his daughter a smile. "Night, sweetheart." With that he flicked off the light and closed the door.

Half way down the hall, Tony let his weight rest against the wall, his back to his daughter's quaint bedroom and his face looking at the three photos on the opposite wall. The first photo was of himself and Ziva. It was one of the last pictures they had ever taken together. The second was of his family…his NCIS family. The last photo was of Tali and himself taken on her last birthday. In fact, the frame held more than one photo. The thick frame was a collection of a photos each taken on all of Tali's birthdays that she had spent with her father.

Running his hands over his face, willing away the tiredness that surged through his body, Tony made his way lethargically to his own bedroom, collapsing dramatically onto the bouncy frame. He sprang up gently into a sitting position and rested at the bed's edge for a moment before he reached out to pick up his phone. He nearly swiped across the screen to unlock it when it rang, causing him to jump.

"Dinozzo," he answered. "Oh hey, Jim. What's up?"

Jim Cassidy was Tony's ally ever since he and Tali set up residence in Paris. By day he was a French intelligence officer on lend by the MI6. By night he ran the streets of private investigation with Tony. It was their own little secret and a rather long story in itself.

"I've got a little piece of information you might be interest in," Jim's British accent broke through clearly.

"Spill it."

"U.S. soldiers were just attacked on an Israeli military base about an hour ago. They say no one survived."

"Oh, wow." Memories seem to flood Tony's mind as he remembered what it felt like to lose a comrade. "But what were our guys doing on the Israeli base at the time?"

"Some sort of reconnaissance mission is all I know. Something about one of their own was being held hostage. I didn't get all those details. But I do know it was Syrian forces that attacked both the base and the soldiers who were on the base."

"I see."

"I'm just sure you can read all about it on Facebook in the morning. Bound to be numerous news sources twisting the truth for some sort of political gain."

Tony scoffed. "That's the truth. I'm assuming no names have been released."

"No, sir. Eyes only."

Tony nodded to himself, fulling aware of the implications of those two gut-wrenching words. He hated to hear them. I guess he was beginning to be more like Gibbs every day.

"Well," Tony sighed. "Give me a call if you hear anything else."

"Will do. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Sure thing."

Tony ended the call and tossed his phone aside. He had to get some rest. His mind was racing with so many different emotions. It seemed like every time Israeli forces were hit, he would go right back to that moment he was told Ziva was dead. It was as if the spark that she was alive would be fanned just a little bit more only to be squelched by the reality of there being no survivors. Either that or it truly was an incident that had nothing to do with her most likely. Either way, Tony shoved the thought from his mind and prepared for bed, knowing fully that this situation was no different.


	3. False Hope

**_A/N: A few matters of business to attend to... First, thank you so much to the person who called me out for using Turkey as my opposing country instead of a bordering country to Israel. Chapter two has been edited to correct this issue! Next, someone mentioned that I said a year had passed in my summary but Ziva thinks several years has past. What I have intended to convey is that one year has passed since Tony stopped searching for Ziva. This means that he has already been searching for quite a while before that. I was just indicating at what time he ceased looking to get on with his life so to speak. Hope that makes sense! Lastly, I have started titling my chapters. Again...Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! I appreciate it so much! God bless, 'Kath'_**

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

The next hours were a blur. She wasn't sure if it had all been a dream or a very harsh reality mixed with a good dose of sedatives. Caught between surges of consciousness, the sound of a chorus of helicopters circled overhead, filling her ears with echoes of wartime song. Shadows passed over and away from the sunbathed tent. A mix of angry and calm voices rose and settled around her.

"To surgery! Stat! We got no time to waste people! This one will be dead on us now if we don't hurry!"

Ziva's eyes opened. It wasn't a trick this time. She was slowly waking up to the horror of what she was beginning to recognize as a makeshift field military hospital. She could see three men writhing in their own blood on cots nearby, one of whom was been hoisted away in a hurry, his arm barely attached to his body and covered in what was most likely the blood of not only himself but many of his comrades.

It took every ounce of strength she could find in herself to raise her head and examine her own injuries. Her left arm was wrapped up from her wrist to her elbow, tints of red showing through the gauze-like material. A makeshift splint held her right leg in place from below her knee. Now that she was fully awake as much as she could be in such a situation, Ziva realized just how much pain she was in. Suddenly she wished she could sink back into unconsciousness for as long as she could in order to escape the pain.

Ziva closed her eyes, attempting to accomplish some way of escaping the nightmare only to feel a gentle, cool hand her forehead. Before she could admit how much the sensation felt good, she seized the hand with all of her might and brought it down, flashing open her eyes to see who had supposedely attacked her. She looked into the eyes of young female perhaps near thirty with brunette locks twirled up into a secure bun at the base of her neck. Her eyes were constricted and her cheeks red as she fought the pain in her arm, her expression begging the patient before her to surrender.

"I—I'm so sorry," Ziva's raspy whisper followed her release. She tried to turn away from the woman the best she could to avoid conversing with her any further. But she could tell the woman would not leave. Without facing the woman, Ziva questioned her, "What are you doing here? I'm fine. You should tend to your other patients."

"Well, I'd be glad to if I was actually a doctor."

Ziva scoffed. "Well, you could nurse them. Read to them or some other trivial pursuit."

The woman smiled to herself, reached for a piece of paper from inside her backpack on the floor, and opened it to the first page. "Journal entry. Day One. We have escaped the attack. Thankfully I was able to get out alive. But all evidence will point to my death." The woman seemed to search for a particular passage and then resumed reading. "I pray to God that my little girl Tali will never forget about me though I will always be dead to her."

Although the woman could not see, a tear ran down Ziva's emotionless face. Suddenly, the physical pain didn't seem as bad as the emotional pain that fueled the restlessness in her heart.

"Who are you?" the woman asked Ziva gently.

"I—I don't know."

"This page from your journal I presume… It was inside your pocket along with a piece of paper that had a name written on it. Your dog tags were so messed up that we could only read part of your name. Elizabeth Perez. Is that you?"

"Yes," Ziva mumbled, tears threatening her eyes. "I suppose so. I don't know. I don't remember anything. But I do remember Tali. My little girl. That's all I can remember. Is she here? Is she alive?"

"No, Miss Perez. At least...I'm sure she is waiting for you back home. But you're home now, Petty Officer. As soon as you're well enough, you'll be on the first plane to Maryland. Your family has been informed that you were injured but are alive."

"That's good," Ziva smiled, unaware of any irregularities in what the woman was saying. It all seemed okay to her. Comforting in fact. She had family. Her name was Perez. A nice Jewish name she recollected. It seemed to suit her. "How much longer until I'm well enough to travel?"

"A week maybe until you are up on crutches. But I'm no expert. I'll have to speak to Major Wilson. He's the doc. You just rest up. Okay?"

The unidentified woman smiled, patted Ziva on the shoulder softly, and stood to visit the other soldiers. But it didn't take long, Ziva noticed, watching as she discovered most of them were either unconscious or had died within minutes. In some weird, morbid way, Ziva wished she was one of them.

* * *

Tali's hands flew in the air as she ran to meet Tony at the door of their apartment, leaving the nanny rather upset and annoyed that the girl had abandoned her homework.

Tony spent the next few moments holding and embracing his daughter before giving the woman a secure wink. "It's okay," he insisted. "Now! What about that arithmetic, young lady?" He joined foreheads with Tali, locking eyes with her and triggering a giggle. "Have you gotten better?"

Tali nodded vaguely and raised a finger to her book on the countertop. "Look, papa! I'll show you!"

"She really is good," the French woman replied, her advanced English skills in good working order. Her mouth then turned downward as her eyes focused on Tony's. "Can I speak to you for a moment? Alone?"

"Yeah," he nodded eagerly. "Sure. Tali, dear, Miss Emile and I will be in the next room. You finish your homework. Okay?" Tali nodded eagerly, and Tony followed Emile to his makeshift office in the adjacent room. Tony gently closed the door, leaving it open about an inch before he turned to Emile, eyes open and waiting for her to speak.

"I wish you would tell Tali the truth," Emile spoke bluntly right to begin with. "She thinks her mother is on some heroic mission. She's dead, Tony! Dead!"

Tony raised a finger to Emile's lips and felt her soft quivers. He tucked a bit of her long black hair around her ear and sighed. "Please. Not so loud. Tali might hear."

Emile tore away Tony's hand from her face. "And she should, Tony! You can't lie to her forever. She's old enough to hear the truth. You're her father. You can't keep it a secret forever. Do you want her finding out some other way and hating you for it?"

"Emile, I will tell her. Soon. But I hope you're not pressuring me into telling her because you _want_ Ziva to be dead. It would be easier for you to take her place that way. Wouldn't it?"

Anger seared through Emile's eyes as she glared into Tony's. He was right. She had feelings for him she couldn't deny. But it was not all about that. "Tony, I love that little girl. I don't want her to get hurt. And she needs a mother."

"She has a mother!"

"A mother who died years ago!"

"We never found her body…"

"Because it was set on fire in the blaze…"

"It could have been a setup."

"Or you don't want to admit the truth, Tony! Let it go! Let _her_ go!"

"I won't, Emile..." Tony suddenly halted his words, his voice catching in his throat as he heard pounding little footsteps run across the apartment hallway. He could have sworn he saw Tali's little frame pass by the door and prayed she had heard nothing. "Emile, you mean so much to Tali and me. But until I have proof that Ziva is dead, I won't be able to forgive myself if I started a new life with someone. I'm just not ready. I love you. But not in that way. Please…I hope you can understand."

"You've changed," Emile cried softly. "When I first met you a year after you moved here, you were willing to start fresh. But it seems like the more time has passed, the more you believe she's alive."

"I'm sorry, Emile, if you can't understand. It wouldn't matter how many women I met. After all, you're the most special of anyone I've met here. When I have proof, I'll consider it. But you need to move on with your life, Emile. Don't wait for me."

"Fine," Emile whispered after a brief moment of thought. She sniffed hard, wiping her tears away forcefully before plodding a path to the door.

Tony jumped a little inside as he heard the door slam. It broke him to have to tell her that. But it had to be said. He owed it to his daughter to see this through. More than that, he owed it to himself.

Suddenly remembering hearing Tali run past them, Tony traced the path down the hall anxiously, hoping to clear up any confusion with what she may or may not have heard. But as he stood at her closed door, all he could hear was her uttering a prayer in Hebrew, her gentle voice making him smile. He decided to let her be alone, returning to the kitchen where Tali's homework was still scattered everywhere haphazardly. That's when the note on the counter caught his attention. His brow furrowed curiously as he reach for the page, unfolding the unconventional mode of communication to see Jim's sloppy handwriting before him.

 _Tony: I broke into your apartment today. I guess that's pretty obvious. I'll owe you one. But I couldn't chance someone tracking down any digital communication. I was wrong, mate. There were several survivors in that attack I told you about. Several U.S. soldiers. One IDF special assignments officer was killed though. I couldn't squeeze out a name. But it was a female. She was former Mossad. I figured you might be curious about it. Meet me at HQ first thing in the morning. Later, Jim C._


	4. Freedom

**CHAPTER FOUR**

It felt a bit odd to the raven-haired beauty to be dressed in an average street outfit. Meandering the picturesque streets of Paris, France, the woman didn't want to look down and see herself in a pair of jeans and a graphic t-shirt. All of her "normal" clothes were stashed away in a London flat still. She was quickly realizing that her years of trying to smuggle platform shoes and a dozen metal chokers through airport security lines was beginning to be tiring. And no longer having the connections from her previous line of work, it was hard to convince overseas security that she was a sane person.

Peeping out from under her ball cap, the woman pursed her ruby red lips and narrowed her gaze, searching for the right apartment. A smile lit up her face as she realized she was standing directly in front of her destination. Tugging at her all black carry-on suitcase, she entered the apartment and scaled the stairs, coming to a long hall on the third floor.

As soon as she came to the last door, she set three firm knocks on the surface and took a step back, waiting for a familiar face. She could hear a male voice inside. It was faint but was just enough to make her smile.

"I'm so sorry to keep you—" Their eyes met, quickly answering a million questions with a single glance. "Abby?! What are you?"

Abby's smile cracked. "Well, geez, Tony. Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Of course! It's just you took me by surprise is all. I wasn't expecting to see you. Tim said you had gone to England."

"Yeah. I have a flat there. I've decided to stay there for a little bit longer. Reeves' funeral was a few days ago. But I wanted to get acquainted with his home a little better. Thought perhaps it would help with the non-profit." Abby stared down the kitchen behind Tony. "So are you gonna let me in, or do I have to make a bed in your hallway here?"

Tony chuckled, stepping aside. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just still in shock. You could have called. Don't you have Facebook?!"

"That's okay." Abby strode inside, partially ignoring Tony's sarcasm as she was still lugging her suitcase behind her, giving the apartment its first truly scientific analytical inspection. "Wow, Tony! This is such a nice place!"

"Thanks. I did have help with the decorating though."

"Well, duh," Abby scoffed. "If you would have decorated there would be movie quotes painted on the wall and posters of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood decking the halls."

"Oh, that's a good idea!"

Abby rolled her eyes. "See, I told you! You must have a female friend. You seemed to have reformed some."

Tony scoffed. "Reformed?! Hardly. But fatherhood tends to put a little perspective on your life."

"Speaking of fatherhood," Abby perked up, her eyes ablaze with joy as she whirled around on her heel. "Where's that little one of yours?"

"Right here!"

Abby threw open her arms and let the not-so-little Tali run straight into her embrace, lifting the girl from the ground into her arms. "Oh! You've grown so much! I hardly recognized you. I'm so happy you remembered your Aunt Abby though."

"I never let her forget you guys," Tony inputted, reaching a hand to smooth out the child's tender locks. "We look through photos often. I do it mostly so she can see her mother." A lump caught in Tony's throat, preventing him from explaining further to which Abby offered a tight-lipped nod of understanding.

"Come here," Abby motioned Tony over, queuing up a group hug. She held Tony and Tali snuggly for a few cherished silent seconds before she eased out of the hug and returned her eyes to Tony. "What do you say I treat you both to dinner? My treat."

Tony beamed. "What do you say Tali? Should we take advantage of Aunt Abigail's kindness and have a night on the town?"

Tali laughed and bobbed her head up and down.

Abby chuckled. "Then it's settled! Let's go!"

Tony was trailing the two ladies out of the apartment, hurriedly gathering the jackets and wallet when something dawned on him. "Abby?!"

"Yeah?"

"You brought your suitcase. You didn't stop at your hotel first?"

Abby's eyes twinkled mischievously. "I don't have a hotel. I figured no one was using your guest bedroom right now so I just came. I hope that's alright? I just knew you'd love a roommate." With that she was gone, out of sight, and with Tali still in tow.

Meanwhile, Tony stood in his apartment trying to piece together what Abby had just said. It wasn't as if he was upset. He was simply surprised. Still, he pushed the confusion aside, donned a smile, and followed out the door before it turned into a girl's night out.

* * *

His face had been worn down with time. Bags underneath his eyes were cradled with the premature wrinkles forming alongside his cheekbones. The freshly-shaven face did very little to return him to his youth. That is, what youth he had left that incarceration had not stolen.

 _Eight years_ , he whispered beneath his breath as he shut his eyes to the lump forming in his throat. A gentle tear strolled away from his eye and plodded down against the neatly-made prison cot. After letting himself shed a good bit of the emotions that had been locked inside for so long, he opened his eyes to look at the stack of clean clothes next to him. They smelled fresh, like the same detergent he had smelled for years on laundry duty. It only served to remind him of everything that had happened while he was inside…every heart-rending feeling of guilt that had torn away at his soul every second of every day he had lived when all he wanted was to be dead.

He wiped at his eyes with the short sleeve of his uniform like a child before he crawled to his feet, weak from emotion to change into the clothes that he had been given. He wasn't used to this kind of clothes. All that he was given was a second-hand pair of jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and an athletic jacket since it was getting cooler these days. A pair of sneakers on the floor completed the ensemble.

Once dressed, he called for the warden, and as he waited in the pin-drop silence, he whispered, "God, I still don't think you're real. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're the reason all this has happened to me. The reason my family is dead. The reason I got put in here. But the fact that I'm getting out has to mean something I suppose. So I'll put things right. But I'm not promising any commitment here. I've done very well on my own. We shall see how this goes."

The warden unlocked the prison cell and stepped aside, his face glazed over with little emotion. If there was any emotion, it was disdain for a man who should have received the chair had the system worked right.

The prisoner gave the warden the most courteous nod he could manage before walking down the hall ahead of the warden. He could almost feel the sunlight he was going to feel as it trickled from the sky down to his aged skin. Sure he had been outside many times. But this was different. It wasn't a tease. It would actually feel like the freedom he had envied for so long.

As soon as he was beyond the gates of the prison, the officials locked him out, leaving him alone on the curb like a common homeless person. His name no longer mattered. For it had been changed. His face no longer mattered. Its features were worn. His status no longer mattered. For he was nobody now. And his past no longer mattered. Thanks to a clerical mishap and an incredibly naïve judge who had more on her mind than cases, the prisoner was now as free of a man as he never thought he'd ever be.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Quick apologies for not posting an update in a while! Hopefully the chapters will come more quickly as I have so many ideas for this story these days. So...mystery prisoner...I wonder who it is?! **evil laugh** Okay seriously I'm wondering if any of you will figure it out. But it won't be a secret for long. Trust me. Hold on to your Nutter Butters for this one folks! Thanks as always for your lovely reviews and support. God Bless, 'Kath'**_


	5. Stay With Me

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 **The next morning…**

The steel-framed sign pointing out into the Parisian street glistened and grabbed a few individuals' attentions as they passed by. Most were tourists and didn't care much about some minute building on the path to the Eiffel Tower. But the locals on that street knew about the building very well. The shiny green letters overhead read _Dinozzo and Cassidy_ and had been home to their private investigation firm for nearly three years now.

Most of the people on that same street operated businesses of their own and were quite wary of the newcomers on the street. Tony could still remember the day Jim had fallen across his path quite literally. A case of stolen identity had brought Jim from England and planted him alongside Dinozzo to surveil a few people until they found out who was to blame. The "client" had insisted they be paid. And after splitting the dough evenly, they concluded it wasn't that bad of an arrangement after all.

"Tony, there you are." Jim leaped from his desk as Tony strolled into the office, thankful to be out of the rather busy Paris streets. They met half way, and Jim planted a newspaper in Tony's hands. "Take a look, mate."

Tony took the paper and flashed a grin. "What? Call girl ads?"

Jim rolled his eyes and flipped the paper over for him.

Tony scanned the article carefully before reading, "United States troops rescues handful of Israeli forces in Syrian raid on IDF investigative base."

"That's what I was telling you about. That's the same attack a former Mossad officer is said to have been killed in."

Tony found a seat before it was too late. He slammed the paper down and ran a hand over his face. "God, if we missed her by this much I'll never forgive myself. Have they released any names yet?"

Jim shook his head. "Still working on it. I did find out that they're shipping home the survivors within the week. A few U.S. soldiers are being discharged home. They lost some good soldiers too."

"I should call Gibbs."

"It's no use. Most of this info is need to know."

"Oh, you don't know my boss."

" _Your_ boss?"

Tony chuckled. "I'll be old and gray and still be calling Leroy Jethro Gibbs my boss." He suddenly got up and darted for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Keep working on those names, Jim. I'll be back in an hour."

* * *

 **A few hours later…**

"Good news, Miss Perez! You're cleared to go home. You'll be on a flight home in less than twenty-four hours."

Ziva had hardly moved from her position since yesterday. Staring straight up at the tent covering above her, she had tried in vain to remember who she was and why she was there. But it was no use.

"Miss Perez?!" The doctor tried getting her attention. He gently tapped her on the shoulder, receiving a death grip from Ziva as she snapped around to defend herself.

Ziva let go and wiped away a tear. "I—I'm so sorry."

"No," the doctor cleared his throat as he stood up and away from her cot. "It's okay. I've seen this countless times. You went through hell out there, soldier. You'll be back on your feet in no time though."

"What about my little girl?"

"Your family has been notified. I'm sure your sweet girl is eager to have you home."

"Thank you, doctor. Truly. I am grateful to you."

"Don't mention it."

Ziva watched as the doctor's figure faded out of the large tent and into the afternoon sunlight. Finally, she was going home. But where was home? They told her it was in the States. She wanted to believe that. The idea seemed so familiar yet foreign at the same time. As if she had more than one home. But that couldn't be. Not if her little girl was where they said she was. She knew that would be home. As soon as she was reunited with her then everything would be okay.

* * *

"Tony!" Abby yelped as the apartment door flew open, a flash racing through the kitchen to the master bedroom that she assumed was Tony Dinozzo. Setting aside the vegetable she was peeling for dinner, Abby raced into the bedroom to see Tony frantically packing a suitcase. Confused, Abby simply watched him stuff the bag with as much essentials as he could manage before zipping up the suitcase. He growled as the zipper stripped and left a gaping hole behind.

Abby had never seen Tony in such a state. He was usually meticulous and put together when he was packing something. That's not much to be said for other things such as his office desk or such. But things he truly cared about were never taken lightly. And that expensive-looking travel piece appeared to be taking quite the beating.

Tony huffed and stomped away into the closet returning empty-handed a short moment later. He then aimed for the exit, being stopped by Abby in the way. She had her arms crossed firmly as she stared into his soul.

"Abby," Tony chuckled. "Please let me by. There's a suitcase in the office I need to get." Abby didn't budge. "Abby, please. I don't have time to waste. Oh, that reminds me. Can you pick up Tali from school and watch her for a couple of days? I should be back in three days tops. Can you stay for that long?" Still, her poker face remained fastened upon her face. "Abby…"

"Tony," Abby broke her silence, cautiously raising a finger in his face. "Don't you dare keep a secret from me. What are you up to? Why are you packing to leave? I don't have a good track record with people who just rush away without telling me anything. I need an explanation. Now!"

Tony let out a sigh. He knew Abby would not let him go without an answer. "I'm going to Syria. On business."

"Okay," Abby nodded, and relaxed a bit. "Why the rush? It's dangerous, Tony."

"It's time sensitive."

"Well, duh. I can see that. But what for?"

"There are some soldiers being shipped home in a few days. I just need to get there to interview one before he leaves. That's all."

"Why? Can't you just let Gibbs know? I'm sure he'd be glad to help."

"No. Not right now. I have to speak with him myself."

"Well, okay." Abby finally stepped aside. But she still was not satisfied and followed Tony closely. "I don't believe you, Tony. What are you not telling me? You haven't been this agitated since Ziva…" Her words trailed off. "Just…maybe I could help. I may not be a part of NCIS anymore. But that doesn't mean I can't help one of my best friends."

Tony paused in his step in the threshold of the office and turned around, meticulously choosing his words. "It's Ziva, Abby. I think she's dead."

Abby hesitated. "Well, don't we already know that?"

"I thought we did," Tony admitted, swallowing a growing lump in his throat as memories of Trent Kort flashed in his mind. "But I'm not so sure now. I gave up searching for Ziva one year ago, Abby. I gave up. Completely. But yesterday there was an attack. My partner Cassidy says a former Mossad officer was killed during the attack."

"Tony, that could have been anyone. Mossad is huge."

"I realize that. But I've got a gut feeling about this one. Jim knows that they're shipping the surviving U.S. soldiers back home in a few days…and…and I keep hoping that by some weird miracle she's there." He finally stopped talking long enough for the emotions to overwhelm him.

"Aw, Tony," Abby consoled through her tears, racing up to wrap Dinozzo in her arms. "You poor thing." Suddenly Abby yanked back, gripping Tony at his shoulders and glaring into his eyes. "Don't go rushing off, Tony. Use your brain. What would Gibbs do?"

A grin slowly slipped onto Tony's face. "Shoot first and ask questions later?"

Abby punched him on the arm, triggering a grimace. "No, silly. Rule number three!"

Tony's forehead wrinkled. "Never be unreachable?"

"No, the other one." Abby waited, but Tony was drawing a blank. "Never believe what you're told. Double check!"

"Oh, yeah!" Tony laughed off the lapse in his brain waves. "I seriously should write those down."

"Don't worry about it. I'll send you a framed one like I have in my flat."

"Seriously? You framed them?!"

"Of course! Without Gibbs there with me all the time…it—it makes me feel like he's there helping me and giving me direction. So," she shifted subjects. "Let's go over the facts."

Tony and Abby began pacing the room together, sorting through everything Tony had logically pieced together so far until they had reached a believable conclusion. But then his gut still told him differently.

"Then I guess we chalk this one up to rule thirty-nine then," Abby concluded with a rough sigh, lethargically falling into a kitchen chair to rest.

Tony followed closely behind, sitting across from her. He then pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He smiled a little when he noticed he had never taken Ziva's number out. He flicked passed the number to escape his emotions and ended up on Gibbs' number. "Well," he flashed a grin. "Here goes nothing."


	6. Rule 39

_**A/N: So I received a review concerning my use of Gibbs' rules in my last chapter that I felt the need to clear up before going forward. First of all, I am very well aware that each one of the former team members knows the rules by heart. My apologies for making it sound like they had forgotten them in some way. By Abby framing the rules, I see that as more of a gesture of appreciation more than a reminder. As for Tony forgetting the rules, that was just him being his sarcastic self. And I stand by my use of the rule I chose for this situation. Once everything in my story is revealed, you will understand why this rule was chosen. ALSO! I wanted to mention I have another NCIS story in my arsenal of adventure entitled "Under Pressure." You can find it on my page. It's a crossover with my main fandom and just wanted to give it a plug for those of you who love Tiva and my portrayal of them. As always, thanks for supporting my story! This past month has been a whirlwind of change and speed bumps in my life. But I'll never forget about my wonderful stories on here. I'll never stop writing! God bless, 'Kath'**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX**

 **P** **resent Day**

"…As always, thank you for flying Sight Ways Airlines. Have a wonderful day."

Ziva snapped awake with a vengeance when she felt a hand gently tap her on the shoulder. She relaxed when she realized it was just the flight attendant and stirred to get herself awake. As she peered over the seats, she realized she was the last person remaining to get off of the plane and could only imagine what the attendant must have thought of her.

Carefully guiding her injured leg upward as she worked her way to her feet, she could feel every muscle in her body ache from the long journey. She had hardly moved the entire way and could feel what strain that had placed on her body. With the flight attendant's help, she secured her weight onto the crutches she was handed and began the long walk down the aisle to disembark from her flight.

Once through the tunnel and inside the airport, Ziva was greeted by a man and a woman. The two individuals were clad in suits and had a shiny golden badge on their hips along with a sidearm. Their faces seemed familiar to her, but she could not place a name with their faces.

As soon as they saw her enter the airport, the man grinned, flashing a badge in her face. "Miss Perez?"

Ziva tried to get a good look at the guy's credentials but failed in doing so. He had tucked away the item before she had even read his first name.

"Miss Perez," the man continued. "We've been tasked with escorting you to the Pentagon for an interview concerning the attack you were involved in. We need the facts from our very own military before this crap leaks out to the media."

"Not so fast," the female agent piped up. "It's obvious Mrs. Perez is exhausted from her journey. Maybe we should take her to the safe house to freshen up first like we were told to do in the first place."

"Wait, I don't understand. I thought I was being discharged. Is my life in some kind of danger still? I want to see my little girl. That is all."

"We understand your concerns, soldier," the man tried to reassure Ziva. "But considering the situation at hand, I'm afraid we need your entire cooperation to ensure that our armed forces know exactly what to do from here."

"I understand," Ziva breathed and let the agents guide her away from the airport.

As they rode throughout the metro D.C. area, flashes of her life seemed to jumble as one in her mind. Things seemed far more familiar to her now that she was home. It did feel like home, she noted as they passed by several United States government buildings including the F.B.I. building and the entrance to the Navy yard.

A face suddenly flashed through her mind. "Gibbs," she whispered out loud, unaware that she had done so.

"Ma'am?" The female agent questioned from her place in the front passenger seat.

Ziva shook off the matter with a weak smile and continued to watch D.C. pass by, unaware that another piece of her world had slowly fallen back into place.

* * *

"Dans le rapport international de ce soir, une explosion a eu lieu dans la capitale américaine, Washington, plus tôt dans la journée. Nos sources affirment que l'explosion a tué trois personnes. Deux des personnes tuées étaient des agents du FBI américain. L'identité de la troisième personne est inconnue pour le moment. Et à travers nos frontières en Allemagne ..."

Tony perked up out of his half-nap and reached for his phone on the side table next to the sofa, cradled beneath the lamplight in the dark apartment. Although his French was still shy of being expert, he understood the news report perfectly well. He pecked in an all too familiar number into his cell and waited for the other end of the line to come alive.

"You saw the news, Tony?"

"Yeah. Any leads?"

"It's not our jurisdiction."

"McGee, surely you've heard some grapevine goodies thanks to Fornell."

"Tony, I'd like to help you out. But seriously the only thing I know is what the news reports are saying. I swear. Here's Ellie. She'll tell you."

"That's okay, Tim. I believe you. Um, I'll call later I guess. I was just curious."

"Okay," McGee replied, his voice broken in confusion. "Talk to you later."

"Yeah. Will do."

Tony tossed aside his phone next to him and let out a deep sigh. He felt like he was going crazy staring at the muted TV which kept scrolling through the same footage of the blast on yet another channel. Aggravated, Tony grabbed the remote and turned off the television. He had no idea what was going on inside of his head. Or was it his heart? His gut? He couldn't take it any longer. Why was he so interested in this blast? Sure he was sad for the agents who passed away. But it felt…deeper.

In his oblivion and confusion, Tony had not realized that his daughter had begun watching him, leaning against the hallway wall and observing him from a distance. She clutched her teddy to her chest, her chin propped on the soft creature as she watched her father.

"Abba?"

Tony jerked around to see Tali. He immediately plastered a smile on his face. "Tali? What are you doing up? Bad dreams?"

Tali shook her head. "No. I just couldn't sleep. Puis-je câliner avec vous, mon père?"

"Sure." Tony beamed as he extended his arms.

Tali bounced across the room and into Tony's lap, the latter wrapping his arms snuggly around his little girl while his own mind reeled with so many thoughts. His daughter's hold seemed to be the only thing able to bring him back to his center of focus.

Before long the child had drifted to sleep in the arms of her father and soon found herself being carried tenderly to her own bed still fast asleep and oblivious to Tony's strong arms beneath her. Tony lingered at Tali's bed after he had safely tucked her in, recalling what Gibbs had told him earlier...

 _"How's Paris?"_

 _"Good. Very good, boss." Tony grinned across the table at Abby. "You'll never guess who's sitting here at my kitchen table right now."_

 _"Abby?"_

 _Tony's forehead collapsed into a charade of wrinkles. "How did you know?"_

 _"She called me last night."_

 _"Oh." Tony deadpanned at the grinning former NCIS agent. "I should have known. Look, boss. I really don't know who else to talk to. But you trained us to trust our gut. And I've got a doozy here."_

 _"Yeah? Spit it out."_

 _"The attacks on the Israel base by Syria where we had some soldiers stationed."_

 _"Yeah, I've heard about it."_

 _"Got any scoop?"_

 _"Not that I can share right now. You should know that, Tony."_

 _"Boss! Seriously? It's me! You're seriously going to hand me that bill of goods now that I'm an ex-agent?"_

 _Gibbs' voice mellowed away into a silence that Tony read loud and clear._

 _"Got it, boss. So you won't tell me anything?"_

 _"Nope. Not over this phone. You know that isn't a good idea. Why don't you come for a visit?"_

 _Tony could sense a hint of a faint smile across the line. "Not with Tali's school schedule."_

 _"I thought you had a babysitter?"_

 _"Who? Abby?!"_

 _Abby perked up and started reaching for the phone aggressively. "Hand me the phone, Tony! He wants to talk to me!"_

 _"No!" Tony gently slapped Abby's hand away. "I don't know. I mean, I'll come if I have a reason to. Do I?"_

 _"That's up to you. I thought your gut was telling you about this one."_

 _Tony laughed. "It is. But I have common sense too."_

 _"Do you?"_

 _"I see your point. Talk to you soon, boss."_

 _Tony ended the conversation to the sight of a pouting Miss Scuito._

 _"Abby, he's busy."_

 _"Not too busy to listen to your yapping."_

Coming out of his reverie, Tony whipped out his phone and pecked in a few key details. The search results flashed before him seconds later, revealing that there was a flight leaving for D.C. in nearly two hours. Plenty of time to stir Abby awake to watch Tali and scurry off to Charles De Gaulle. Still, he threw away the thought and sauntered to his own bedroom. He wanted to listen to his gut. But right now he wasn't entirely sure that his gut was the source of this confusion.

* * *

The wind was whipping through the trees and seem to slip through the wooden cracks so very easily with little effort at all. Strange combinations of bird calls joined in with nature's chorus. A distant whip of thunder faded as quickly as it had come. And still a rustling of feet by the door outside couldn't quite draw her out of the nearly unconscious state she couldn't snap out of.

She reeled a bit inside. Something wasn't right. She could feel the weight of some large creature bearing down on her chest. She couldn't even open her left eye. And when she tried to groan, no sound came out of her mouth. But the worst pain of all was in her right leg and left arm. She knew the injuries that had just barely had time to heal had been struck again. She only prayed they were bruised and not broken. But telling by the way she was feeling, she feared the worst.

Suddenly those same footsteps were now inside. From her vantage point she could only see up to the stranger's knees. Judging by the shoes and jeans, it had to be a man. It was a strange thought that struck the woman next. For some reason she could only wish with all her might that he give her something to drink.

"Water," she strained to speak, the words barely coming out as she lifted her neck, releasing the weight as she slammed her head back down upon some makeshift pillow of shirts with a harsh sigh.

Soon the stranger was by her side. He lifted her head and gently poured water from the plastic bottle to her lips. She was receptive but didn't open her eyes all the way to identify her savior…or captor. She wasn't entirely sure. But surely a captor wouldn't be as strong and gentle as this man was. Whoever he was, his hold gave her confidence enough to trust him as he turned his hand over, feeling of her forehead. He made a passing comment about the warmth and then seemed to be examining each of her wounds.

Ziva could no longer ignore him. With her only good eye bracing itself open, she tried to make out the frame of the man who was changing a bandage on her leg. He did seem familiar. But for some reason she didn't want to trust him. Opposing feelings fought for a place in her heart. She wanted to kill him as much as she wanted to love him for saving her. But why? She couldn't even remember who she was. How could she possibly remember a nemesis from the past?


End file.
